Pull
by Ochiba Konpeki
Summary: "You should pull my hair."-"I don't think that's a good idea."-"I do. And it *is* my hair, y'know." Stan and Kyle are hanging out. Style, a bit cracky.
1. Chapter 1

_So! This was based off of true events... Except I didn't get as positive of results. It seems weird, I know... Whatever. Don't judge me, I'll judge you right back._

**Pull**

My cheek was shoved into the carpet and Stan's weight was pressing my stomach against the floor almost painfully. He was seated quite comfortably on my lower back, legs bent at the knee on either side of my torso, and I felt very safe, very vulnerable, very protected, very contradictory. He tugged my shirt out from underneath himself and slowly pushed it up my back, making me shiver and squirm as my flesh was exposed.

He rested his hands on my bared shoulder blades, smoothing circles into the space next to my spine with his thumbs. The warm, calloused palms ghosted to settle as far down my back as his seating arrangement would allow, smoothing them up either side of my spine and circling over my shoulder blades. I scratched at the carpet beneath me, a little nervous.

"You alright?" he asked cheerfully, not pausing in his pleasant (if not nerve-wracking) ministrations. _I'm more than alright,_ I wanted to respond, _and I'm in love with your hands. _But I settled for bitching instead. "No, you asshole, I'm not alright. You _tackled_ me and are in the process of _raping_ me." I snarked. He chuckled, beginning to smooth his palms from the tender space just next to my spine outward. Unwillingly, I melted a little against the carpet.

"You can't rape the willing, Kyle." he teased. I tried to glare at him over my shoulder, throwing back automatically, "And you can't murder the suicidal!"

OoO

It was honestly, profoundly, deeply satisfying to have someone -especially someone like Kyle- under me, more or less helpless and at my mercy. And maybe that sounds more like something Cartman would say, but it's not like I want to damage the little warm body beneath me, like he would. I just want to make him feel better.

"Well," I murmured, a satisfied smirk curling my lips as a sharp inhale was heard from the redhead in reaction to my thumbs pressing in next to his spine and smoothing outward, "You shouldn't spend so much time hunched over your desk... Or maybe you should just quit bitching."

I like how sensitive Kyle is-always has been. It's always been deeply amusing to watch him squirm and shiver at the smallest bit of contact. I knew I was going a good job, too, by the little shaky inhales and cute little sighs I was getting. I found a tight bundle of muscles near his shoulder and dug into it mercilessly, prompting him to kick his feet up, narrowly missing my back, and let out a little cry of, "Ah!"

I tried to muffle my chuckle but he caught it, tensing up and demanding in a tone half-accusing, half-insecure, but still playful, "Are you _laughing_ at me?"

"I am." I admitted, trying to compensate by working harder. He let out a noise edging on a moan and promptly bit into his palm, breathing in a very controlled manner through his nose. I grinned a little sadistically, suddenly determined to make him moan out loud. I dug into his shoulders and neck -he'd been complaining about how sore they were for months- and received a low keening noise. Nice, yes, but not my goal. Continuing to work into the slowly relaxing and loosening muscles in his back, I tried to think of something I could pull out of my sleeve. I quickly scanned through our games of Journal (Truth or Dare without the Dare, for lazy nights when we don't want to move), late night conversations, anything that might give me a hint. Vaguely, I wanted to know why it mattered to me so much, but I couldn't quite bring myself to care.

Finally, though, I found something in the recesses of my mind, the mental image of Kenny playing with a sleeping Kyle's hair and commenting randomly, "He likes to have his hair pulled. Did you know that?"

At the time, I had been concerned with how Kenny knew that in the first place. Now, though, I was concerned with whether or not it was true. I really, really wanted to get that reaction, that noise from him. I _really_ shouldn't be allowed to be bored, ever. I slowly eased the workload onto one hand, not wanting to startle him, and threaded my other hand into his pretty red curls, rubbing his scalp gently. _Omigod._

I just made Kyle purr.

I stifled my cooing and laughter, twisting my fingers in his hair and slowly tightening my hand into a fist, waiting for him to stop me. He didn't, though, so, a little hesitantly, I tugged on his hair. "Ah!"

It wasn't a pained noise, more like a pleased noise. I marveled at Kenny's knowledge for a moment, pausing before actually _pulling_ his hair, hard enough to force him up on his palms, back arched and neck woefully exposed. He made a sexual noise, a desperate noise, and I bit my lip, going on instinct as I pulled back just a little more and bit down on the space where his neck and shoulder met.

Mission a success.

His moan was almost forcefully sexy, quiet but passionate, very much like how you'd expect him to sound. Suddenly, though, I was painfully aware of my situation. I had just spent fifteen minutes trying to get my best friend -my male best friend- to moan, and succeeded by pulling his hair and biting his neck. I also had a hard-on digging into his back. I actually flinched, fully expecting to be hit as I slowly, cautiously detangled my fingers from his hair, lowering him back to the floor.  
>He just collapsed against the floor, though, boneless and seemingly very much content to be forced into the floor by my weight for however long I planned on staying there. A nice change to his earlier bitching about his sore neck, I suppose, but still disconcerting. "Ky?" I tried, getting a little <em>'nyah'<em> noise in response. I raised an eyebrow. Well, hell, if this is how you shut him up...

I snorted, caressing his shoulder blades lightly. "You okay there, bud?" I asked lightly, worried I might've broken him somehow. "I feel _great._" he mumbled, pleased, voice muffled by the carpet.

"You do?" I humored him, still a little worried by his compliance. "Yup." he sighed, rubbing the tips of his fingers into the carpet. "Why'd you stop?"

I pressed my palms down across his back, tracing shapes into the pale skin I had given myself access to. "I was worried I had crossed a line." I replied carefully, waiting for any sort of agreement on his face. All I got, though, was a chuckle and, "Since when have you ever cared about boundaries, physical or otherwise?"

"Good point." we sat in silence for several long moments, only for the quiet to be broken by an edging-on-hesitant, "Stan?"

"Mmhm?"

"Are you..." he trailed off, before asking ludicrously, "Stan, are you _hard_?"

I blinked in surprise, having forgotten. I froze in place, glancing down at my crotch, and flinched. "...No?"

He seemed to mull this over for several seconds. "You're lying." he pointed out lazily. "I can feel it."

"No you can't." I denied. "Would I lie to you?"

"Yes."

Oh, awkward silence. My mortal enemy. "Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah, Ky?"

"You should pull my hair."

I threaded one of my hands through his silky curls, running the tips of my fingers across his scalp. "I don't think that's a good idea." I mumbled a little nervously. He slumped a little -as much as he could having already practically melted into the floor- and pleaded, "I do. And it _is _my hair, y'know."

"It is your hair." I agreed quietly, knotting my fingers in the bright locks. "Go ahead." he urged me. "Pull."

I tugged back, leaving him scrambling for his bearings, clawing at the floor beneath him until I loosened my grip enough for him to relax onto his elbows. "Y'know." I mumbled, tugging back again and relishing in his little gasp, "I can't even say this is the weirdest thing we've ever done together. Or even the gayest. Fuck, this isn't even the strangest thing you've ever asked me to do to you."

"Doesn't even make the top ten." he agreed breathlessly, pulling against my grip, trying to get more of the apparently pleasing sensation. I tugged back harder, his back bending like a bow, drawing a helpless noise from his throat.

I let up on the tugging and he straightened out into a more normal position, breathing just a little erratically. I leaned down and nuzzled the back of his neck, hyper aware of the fact that while this doesn't make the top ten of any of our lists, it takes a lot to make top ten, and this was really, really weird. Even for us.

"You sure this is okay?" I asked a little skeptically. He sighed a little exasperatedly. "Stan, you'd be hard pressed to find something that wasn't okay."

That really piqued my interest. "Oh? So I can do anything I want to you?"

I could feel him tense under me as I let go of his hair, the tightening muscles in his back easily felt against my thighs. "I suppose." he replied carefully, a tinge of warning to his words. I promptly ignored it, grin broadening. Slowly, teasingly, I ghosted my hands over his sides, asking again with a husky note bleeding into my tone, "_Anything..?_"

"Y-yeah." he stammered, hands clenching into fists above his head. "Good." I practically growled, hearing his breath hitch. Before he could respond, however, I attacked his sides with my skillful fingers, raking up and down his sensitive ribs and hitting all the most ticklish spots. He actually squealed, legs kicking up and writhing and bucking, screaming and laughing hysterically as he begged me to stop.

I didn't relent, however, until there were tears running down his face and he managed to kick me in the back, knocking me forward a little bit. "Off!" he demanded as I slowed to a halt, smoothing my palms up and down on either side of his spine and waiting for him to calm down. "No." I refused cheerfully, making him growl and try to buck his hips up, unable to move properly under my much greater weight.

"Goddamn jock." he cursed under his breath, pushing and shoving as he tried to turn around underneath me. I shifted my weight onto my knees, allowing him to turn onto his back. Immediately, he was rubbing at his sore chest, tugging his shirt down to cover the lightly bruised skin. I laughed at his grimace and settled back down, into his lap, before shooting back up onto my knees with a blush in place as I realized I wasn't the only one who had gotten excited. There was a blush on his face too as he shoved at my shoulders, muttering embarrassedly, "Off, Asshat."

"But I like having you under me." I flirted playfully as I settled down on his thighs instead, giving him the opportunity to sit up, clinging to my neck for leverage. "Ouch." he grumbled into my ear, throwing his shoulder into my chest suddenly and catching me off-balance. I had superior support, though, and after a couple moments of pushing and shoving, he fell back, propping himself up on his elbows and fixing his bright green glare on me.

"Stanley Marsh, get the fuck off of me." he snarled, prompting me to giggle and press him into the floor with a palm in the middle of his chest. His shoulders made contact with the carpet with ease and I smirked down at him. "I don't think you're in any sort of position to be telling me what to do." I warned him playfully.

"Marsh!" he scolded, though he didn't look particularly angry. "Don't you know how heavy you are? You're hurting me!"

I scrambled off of him at that, falling sideways. "I didn't mean to!" I pleaded as I gathered my bearings, watching him slowly stand up, stretching and wincing. "You're fine." he assured me absently, rolling his skinny shoulders. "Look, I even feel better now. You're gold."

I rolled my eyes, standing only to launch myself onto his bed, burrowing under the blankets to avoid the cool breeze created by the fan he insisted on keeping on at all times. "And you're obsessed with The Outsiders." I responded absently, watching him rub at his neck as he looked around for something. "It's a good book." he defended, "And that's not even what I meant!"

"Whatever." I sighed, feeling our moment slip away. I pouted a little at the thought, thinking about how it felt to be so close to him. Wendy never lets me touch her like that, but Kyle is a whole other story. "You're warm." I commented as I shivered, gaining an amused expression from the redhead.

"You always say you're cold." he observed as he sat on the bed, looking at me over his shoulder, "But you're always warmer than everybody else."

I brightened and growled playfully, pawing at Kyle with claw-hands. "Maybe I'm a werewolf!"

"Dude, Twilight sucks. Just move on for fuck's sake." he rolled his eyes in exasperation. I gasped at him in mock shock, despite the fact that I already knew he hated the saga. He laid down next to me as he continued in a matter-of-fact tone, "The writing is mediocre at best, the plot see-through, the second book pointless, the end completely idealistic and unrealistic. I mean, they spend like, two hundred pages building up tension for a war that never happens!"

"But..." I pouted, knowing all that was true, "It's a good book!" I defended weakly.

"It's four agonizing novels about a basketcase trying to choose between bestiality and necrophilia." he quoted some hater. I scowled, turning on my side to face away from him.

"Whatever, Pothead."

"Stanley, don't even start!"

"So, what? You can make fun of my gay vampires but I can't make fun of your gay wizards?" God, I hate Harry Potter. Maybe simply because Kyle loves it.

"If you make fun of my gay wizards, I'm gonna make fun of your gay ninjas."

"Hey!" I protested. "Naruto is not gay, dude!"

"Oh, please." Kyle sneered, "His entire life revolves around Sasuke. Beat Sasuke, get better than Sasuke, find Sasuke, kill Sasuke." I scowled, turning over to glare at him, practically nose-to-nose. "Oh, yeah? Your whole life revolves around me, does that make you gay?"

"I _am_ gay!" he reminded me angrily. I scoffed, blushing a little at having made such an invalid point. "Well, if you're gonna make fun of my ninjas, I'm gonna make fun of your alchemists!"  
>He froze, glaring at me with the slightest hint of laughter in his eyes to assure me that he wasn't truly angry. "You wouldn't dare!" he threatened, puffing out his cheeks in an angry, adorable pout.<p>

"Nii-san!" I squealed, giggling, and he tackled me, pushing me onto my back and straddling my torso as he raised his fist threateningly, biting his lip to suppress a smile. I caught it, though, as it flew towards my face in what I'm pretty sure would have been a pseudo punch. My hand encompassed his and he glared at it for a second, as though scolding his fists for being tiny and ineffectual, before throwing his left fist as well. I caught it, too, and he pouted at me while I switched my grip on his hands into one fist around his skinny wrists. I poked him on the nose and he snarled, lunging to try and bite my fingers.

"Bad!" I scolded, slapping his thigh playfully. He glared balefully, tugging almost absently at his wrists. I drew up my knees and he leaned back against them, relaxing into the support immediately. I set his hands down in his lap and laced my fingers together under my head, content to have him close again and grateful that I had already calmed down from earlier. "I like this." I muttered quietly, almost to myself.

"Like what?" he asked, curious but a little skeptic as well for whatever reason. "Being close." I responded automatically, blushing a tiny bit and averting my eyes to the ceiling. "Nobody else lets me do this."

"Not even Kenny?" he inquired curiously, looking a bit surprised. Kenny would get as close to anybody as they wanted him. I chuckled. "He'd rape me, dude."

"What about Wendy?" The question was inevitable, yes, but I still flinched a bit. Kyle leaned into my line of vision, expression sympathetic, supporting himself with his hands on my chest. I laughed humorouslessly, finding myself unable to keep eye contact. "She won't even let me put my arm around her shoulder or her waist, dude. She likes her personal space."  
>He tilted his head to the side, curls falling into his eyes as he nodded slowly, as though recognizing and accepting the truth to my words. "But you like to cuddle and touch and hold hands and crap." he observed. "Aren't relationships built on compromise?"<p>

"Wendy doesn't compromise. It's all 'my way or the high way' with her." I winced at the pitiful note to my voice, knowing that I was bitching. That's okay, though. I'm allowed to bitch and whine and be a pussy around Kyle. "That's bullshit." he grumbled, scowling. "I don't like to touch people, but look what I do for you! And we aren't even in a relationship, we're just friends."

I smiled a little, reaching up to tug him down into a semi-awkward hug, mostly weird because he had to support himself with his hands on either side of my head and couldn't return the embrace. "Super-Best Friends." I corrected, releasing him to see his blush as he repositioned himself in an upright position.

"What are Super-Best Friends, dude?"

I stared at him uncomprehendingly. Super-Best Friendom had never been defined, true, but... "The terms of Super-Best Friendom change as we do." I informed him slowly, encouraged by his agreeing nod. "Like there are constant rules and conditions and then there are irregular ones. Super-Best Friends are whatever we are at the moment."

We sat in comfortable silence for several long moments. "I've been thinking on this for a while." he started to break the silence, "Since something you said earlier. Is the gayest thing we've ever done before the Mistletoe Incident or when we watched the Notebook together and cried?"

I grimaced a little bit. "I dunno, dude. The time we spent an entire day bitching about how much of an asshole your ex is while watching corny chick flicks and eating ice cream was pretty damn gay." He giggled, pressing the back of one of his palms against his mouth to muffle the noise. I rolled my eyes. "You're such a girl, Ky." I teased him, pinching one of his hips. He squeaked a little, rocking sideways just far enough for me to have to catch him and right him.

He smacked my hand but let me rest my palms on his thighs, tilting his head back in thought. "There's also the time we went to the eighth grade dance together and danced to Careless Whisper."

I _hmm_'d in thought. "I think you made the me and you gayness moot, though, when you made out with Kenny a couple minutes later."

"Well." he sighed teasingly, jabbing me in the ribs and making me squirm. "There's the time we watched _Teeth_ and you got so scared you practically crawled into my lap." I shuddered at the reminder. "Oh, shut it, you crying into my neck when we watched _The Last Exorcism_."

We both chuckled at the fond memory. "There's the time you made me go to the release of the third Twilight Movie. Fuck, I can't even remember what it was about... But I know it was you who screamed 'Team Edward' and started the fight, I know it was." he accused, jabbing me in the chest.

"It was not!" I denied. "Besides, you made me go to all eight Harry Potter releases, and cried when Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Severus, George and Dobby died." I reminded him. "But..." he pouted. "Dobby is a free house-elf!"

I shook my head, eyes bright with amusement. "I love you." I chuckled without thinking. He rose an eyebrow at me. "Am I sensing a bit of bromance here?" he inquired teasingly. "If there is one person in the entire world I'd be gay for," I told him truthfully, "It'd be you or Chad Kroeger."

After a moment of incomprehension, he collapsed into laughter, hunching over to rest his forehead against my chest as he convulsed with mirth, clutching at the sheets and my shirt. "He's like, forty, dude." he gasped between giggles as I wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him in place. "Well." I mused, "I could be his pretty little boytoy until he dies early from the drugs and alcohol and inherit a fuckload of money."

Kyle and I were the only Nickelback fans in South Park. Once, in an attempt to rectify this, we hacked into the intercom system and blasted Dark Horse for almost half of the day. Instead, though, we gained a handful of enemies and got suspended. "Fine." he agreed, sitting up and breaking my hold, fishing through his pockets to find his iPod touch. "But I expect an autograph." Soon, the familiar chords of _If Everyone Cared_ rang softly through the room. I smiled.

"So." Kyle started a few moments later. "You'd be gay for me?" I blushed instinctively, averting my eyes.

"Of course." I muttered. "I practically already am. You and I have a healthier relationship than me and Wendy."

He nodded thoughtfully, a smirk growing on his face. Using the same tone he used to suggest that I pull his hair earlier, he told me, "We should make out."

I flushed bright red, my throat drying up and nausea twirling in my stomach. Not _That's Sick Dude_ nausea, but _Excited-Nervous_ nausea. Butterflies in my stomach. Kyle watched my reaction carefully, a spark of regret flickering in his eyes as he made to slide off of me. Before he could shift his legs from around me, though, I reached up, fisting my hand in hair and yanking him back in place, drawing an ecstatic gasp from his pretty lips.

I pulled him down to crash our lips together, trying not to think and trying not to puke on him. I parted his lips with mine and delved my tongue in for a playful swipe that made him tremble a little in my grip, keening quietly as I tugged his hair. I pulled back just the tiniest bit to mumble against his lips, "I agree." as the song switched over to _If Today Was Your Last Day._

OoO

_I hate Twilight with a burning passion._

_SO! Love it, hate it, quirk an eyebrow at it? Lawl, anyway. I'm going to try to start posting every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Sound good? Next up, to be posted Monday, is Microphobia, a Creek for Phobophobia. I'm hard at work on the first chapter of Cinnamon, of course, and all that other good stuffs. _

_So... Life, amirite? About to graduate from seventh grade, might be skipping eighth, going to Duke University for writing camp, might be going to highschool with the equivalent of Max Kinley... I'm getting pretty sick and tired of all this shit. Ugh. I think I'm having a mid-childhood crisis. I'm only _really_ happy when I'm reading or writing... and all my friends have decided my previously endearing antics are now obnoxious. Gotta love it. On the bright side, my Aniki moved back in from college for the summer, woo! And JoJo turns five just around the corner... Life. I have no idea why I'm telling you all this shit... Anyway, I have a **CHALLENGE** for you!_

What's your life's dream?

_Answer in a review or PM me! If enough people tell me, I'll post my life's dream._

_**REVIEW!**_


	2. AN

So, THANK YOU EVERYBODY WHO HAS REVIEWED, FAVORITED, AND JUST PLAIN ENJOYED THIS STORY.

For all your support, you have been rewarded-With a sequel entitled PDA. Go forth. Read. Review.


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